This is a still morning. The windsock hangs limp, the branches move not even an inch, there are no birds singing, though earlier squirrels were chasing each other through the trees. I went to bed late, and woke up late, but don’t feel the usual tension of an upset schedule. Peace abounds, and I feel like basking in it, letting my muscles and mind relax in its soothing glow. The only movement now is the chickadee wandering up and down, all around, the trunk of a cedar, looking for bugs within the crevices of its bark.

I’m not sure if there is a rational to my present life. I have for the last week or so backed off on some of the forcefulness I put on myself, letting loose some of the ambition which drives me towards God, and drives me towards a godly life. In doing so, I’ve found myself curiously restored in some ways, stronger, as though letting loose of the demand for maturity is in itself a step of maturity.

I haven’t been using my time as well as I used to and haven’t gotten accomplished what I wanted to, only I feel peace this morning, and it is not the peace in laziness, it is the peace which comes from release, from trust. There are indeed times in which bursts of activity and productivity are required, and there is no doubt a life of laziness is condemned. However, in learning certain lessons there are demands for different responses and to learn the lessons of God’s sovereignty means we release claims of our own. In releasing these claims deepseating habits, and strong calls from society all around, have to be washed away, cleansed so that we are more focused on the tasks which are of eternal consequence.

Either that or I am theologizing my present lack of impetus. But I pray, and I pray for wisdom and guidance and inspiration. What comes I have to assume is an answer to prayer.